


let's be eternal for just a little longer

by raumdeuter



Series: light chasers [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Alternate Universe - Mecha Pilots, Alternate Universe - Space, GIGI BUFFON: SPACE PIRATE, Juventus Turin, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raumdeuter/pseuds/raumdeuter
Summary: God knows it isn’t fear. It’s been a long time since he’s had cause to feel that. But a man gets used to protecting what’s his:hisship,hismobile suits,hisragtag assortment of ex-soldiers, too many of whom had followed him into the black out of a sense of starry-eyed hero worship than any understanding of the mess they were getting themselves into.





	let's be eternal for just a little longer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brampersandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brampersandon/gifts).



> This fic is a sequel to _there's so much energy in us_ , in that it picks up immediately after the epilogue! It will probably be confusing unless you've read that first.
> 
> Also, it is for Caitlin, whose fault it is. lov u!! kees

“It’s a trap,” says Leo, as soon as Gigi cuts the comms.

“You know,” says Gigi, “I had a feeling you were going to say that. Claudio?”

“No go,” comes the immediate response over the intercom. “Ran into some kind of firewall as soon as we got close. Giorgio says it’d take a dozen cycles to even figure out where to start. They may have a dedicated copilot in charge of security.”

 _Like us,_ he doesn’t say. And if Giorgio can’t hack their system, nobody can. Gigi eyes the environmental camera. He hadn’t expected a junker like the _Adler_ to be that well protected. Leo’s right; it _is_ suspicious.

“I’ve crossed swords with Klose before,” he says, and rubs his chin. “He’s an honest man, despite the Federation’s best efforts. Didn’t expect to see him out here, but I don’t think he’d lie to us, either. What do we have on his captain?”

“Lahm,” says Giorgio, his fingers flying over the keys. “First officer on the _Adler_ until the Europa incident. Stellar record up until then.”

“And after?”

“Federation censors scrubbed the ‘net pretty well, but I found an incident report from the Extraterrestrial Syndicate for Planetary Navigation dated about six months back. Surveyor by the name of Lalas says he picked up a marooned Federation captain on S2-Europa.”

So it could have been a legitimate mutiny. Or, says the cautious side of him, which seems to be getting more and more of an airing these days, it could have been staged. The Federation isn’t lacking for resources, and he’s made himself enough of a nuisance to deserve something a little more high-budget than the usual patrol squadron or two.

Still. If this is a trap, it’s an awfully flattering one.

“Stand down, all of you,” he says at last. “And tell the crew to clean the docking bay. We’ll be getting visitors soon, and I know for a fact Wojciech keeps his secret distillery down there.”

 

\---

 

On his way out of the bridge he pauses to run his knuckles lightly against the corridor wall, the brushed steel cool against his fingers. If he lingers long enough he can feel the warm hum of the drive core rumble through him, all the way from the engine room, like a heartbeat. He doesn’t often do it, but he does it now, letting _La Vecchia Signora_ ground him as she always has.

Down the hall, the pilots are beginning to trickle out of corridor leading from the hangar deck. There hadn’t been any real cause for alarm from a single ship, but these days you can never be too careful.

“Capi!”

Gigi looks up: Paulo, bright-eyed as ever, hair mussed and half-falling into his eyes from his helmet. “What was that all about? Not like you to back down from a fight.”

“Don’t get fresh,” says Gigi. “I still haven’t decided whether or not I want to keep you around.”

Paulo grins at him. “You wouldn’t have given me the best copilot on the ship if you were planning to fire me out the airlock.”

“Flatterer,” says Claudio from somewhere above them, and Paulo’s grin widens.

“Stay on standby, anyway,” says Gigi, “we don’t know what they want from us,” and Paulo tips him a salute as he sails past.

Gigi watches him go. He doesn’t say assigning Claudio to Paulo had been as much for his own peace of mind as it had been anything else. It’s true the kid’s a born pilot, but the kind that’s always worried Gigi. If he isn’t careful, he’s as likely to burn out as he is to burn bright.

“How is he?” he says to the air.

“Spoiling for a fight,” says Claudio. “Brainwaves all over the place. He’ll be better once he’s had a few raids under his belt, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

“I like to hear it from someone else. Makes me think I’m not going mad.”

“You worry too much, old man,” says Claudio, and Gigi waves a hand. He isn’t worried, at least not about that: Paulo’s in good hands, metaphorically speaking, and he knows letting him onboard was the right decision. It’s too bad Gigi can’t give him the chance to prove himself just yet.

He’s about to turn and head for his quarters when Mario catches him by the arm.

“Listen,” he says. “Steph told me it’s Philipp Lahm in charge of that old thing. Is that true?”

Gigi barely even blinks. Copilots gossip like old fishwives. You might as well tell them to stop processing altogether. “You know him?”

Mario shrugs. “I served with him once. Teacher’s pet if I ever saw one. And he never did something for nothing. If he says he’s going to take down the Federation, he’ll plant a flag on the rubble after the dust has cleared and declare himself president.”

“But he’ll take down the Federation first,” says Gigi.

Mario snorts, but Gigi knows the grudging respect in his eyes. “Yeah. He will.”

 

\---

 

His quarters haven’t changed much since his Federation days. It’s a little more spartan than he’d like, if he’s honest with himself, but when you’re on the run you don’t have much of a choice. Giorgio had explained it to him once: something about trophies being extra weight that fucked with the readings when he calculated slingshot trajectories. Gigi’s never really understood it himself, but he trusts Giorgio with his life, so: Vacuum-blasted walls, cool ceiling lights, greatcoat draped over a chair--and the helmet on the desk, the only access point to the copilot currently in charge of the ship’s defenses.

For a moment he turns it over in his hands, trying to ignore the feeling of his heart in his throat, the way it always is when he’s holding the helmet. Stupid of him. He takes a deep breath and slides it on.

“It’s a trap,” says Iker.

Gigi resists the urge to rub his temples, not least because the helmet’s in the way. “Is nobody else on this ship going to take my side?” he says.

“No, and you won’t have expected me to, so why start now?”

He can feel a smile threatening to fight its way onto his face. After a moment’s struggle he surrenders. “I guess not,” he says.

Iker laughs. It’s a sudden sound, all the more more surprising for being rare among copilots. Iker isn’t most copilots. “I figured you’d be dropping by sooner or later.”

“Maybe I just wanted to chat.” Gigi scratches at the silicone gasket lining the base of his helmet. They always make these things too damn tight. “You didn’t know any of them before?”

He knows the silence is Iker shaking his head, or trying to work through the muscle memory of it. Coding is a funny thing. “We were mostly stationed on the other side of the system. And after that--you know.”

Gigi knows.

It doesn’t hurt any less now than it had a year ago. He stills his hands before they can reach for his helmet, but Iker can’t miss the sudden tension in the set of his shoulders, the uptick of his pulse.

“I still don’t regret it, you know,” says Iker.

“That makes one of us,” says Gigi.

They both know he doesn’t mean it, but Iker lets him say it anyway, and Gigi is grateful. For once it’s the words he doesn’t say out loud that he means: _I miss you. I’m sorry._

“Get some sleep.” Iker’s voice is low and reassuring in his ear. “I’ll wake you when our new friends send over their boarding party.”

“I’m glad to hear you calling them friends, at least,” grumbles Gigi, and Iker huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Oh,” says Iker, as Gigi moves to take the helmet off. “And there’s one other thing you need to know about them.”

 

\---

 

Mario was right: Lahm is a teacher’s pet. For all that he and his crew have supposedly been on the run for the last year, his clothes are freshly ironed and his hair is fussily combed, and the shuttle that carries him from the _Adler_ is gleaming and spotless the way _La Vecchia Signora_ ’s hasn’t been in a long time.

He’s kept his boarding party small. Right behind him is Klose, looking uncomfortable in an equally crisp uniform with all traces of Federation braid carefully removed. On Lahm’s other side is a man Gigi doesn’t recognize in a decidedly less formal hangar jumpsuit.

“Sami Khedira, our chief mechanic,” Lahm says by way of introduction, and Khedira inclines his head, smiling faintly.

Here to get the lay of the land, no doubt, but Gigi lets that slide for now. There are crews out here in the border systems who’ll operate under the motto of _no honor among thieves_ , but he’ll be damned if his is one of them. He’s cleared out one of the old holoconference rooms for the meeting, brought out the finest preserves he has to offer. As Gigi pours them all glasses of lowgrav wine he notices Lahm’s gaze flick to the speakers in the ceiling and back down again.

“You’ll forgive me for letting our copilots listen in, of course,” says Gigi. “Most of my crew is still convinced you’re here to murder us all in our sleep.”

To Gigi’s surprise, Lahm laughs like a schoolboy. “I wouldn’t dare,” he says, as he tries the wine. “I know what happened to the last fleet the Federation sent after you. I’ve no desire to meet the same fate as Captain Casillas.”

His eyes are a little too bright, a little too curious. It’s clear Lahm has kept up to date on current events, if he’s managed to hear the official Federation story. It’s also clear he has his suspicions about what actually happened that day, even if it’s only enough to whet his appetite.

Gigi’s content to keep him hungry for now.

“You’re not doing wonders for my confidence in you,” he deadpans.

“I don’t see any point in pretending I’m someone I’m not.” Lahm leans forward, spreads his hands. “It’s very simple. We’re both a long way away from safe harbor, and I like to think we have a few enemies in common. What I want to know is what we can do for you, and what you can do for us in return.”

“And here I was hoping we’d spend a little more time catching up before going straight to business.” He catches Klose trying to hide a smile. “My question is this: what can you offer us that we don’t already have?”

Lahm exchanges glances with Khedira. “When was the last time you stopped for repairs?”

“Less than two cycles ago. We’ve got a few friendly ports who’ll still do maintenance for us.”

Lahm doesn’t seem fazed by the speed of his answer. It’s enough to make him suspicious. “Even for your copilots?”

Gigi shrugs. “Giorgio’s the best at what he does.”

He knows it’s exactly what Lahm wanted to hear as soon as he says it, but it’s too late to take the words back. Klose is looking at him now with a sympathetic expression. He knows, Gigi realizes with a sick feeling in his stomach. They _all_ know, damn them. How they could’ve found out is beyond him, but--

“I’m told you have an excellent security system in place,” says Lahm. “Something that complex would’ve taken decades to program. Or a couple days, if you have a good copilot wired into the mainframe. Did Giorgio set that up for you?”

 

\---

 

 _I’m not burning out before you do,_ he’d said.

God knows they’d been careful. But maybe they hadn’t been careful enough. Maybe the Federation had suspected something. Or maybe they hadn’t, and they’d decided it was simply more convenient to remove a captain who was gumming up the works by having a little too much integrity. Who’d reach out, hours before his death, to a man who’d done what he’d never been able to and turned his back on the Federation.

It doesn’t much matter now, when this had been the only way to save him.

 

\---

 

“Captain Iker Casillas was tragically killed in a heated skirmish with border pirates on the outer rim,” says Lahm, as if reading off a page. “His noble sacrifice permitted Federation forces to flank the pirate fleet and inflict significant casualties.”

Gigi says nothing. The wreck of his right eye throbs, once, in memory.

“I delivered an order to the _Galactico_ back when I was a miner,” says Khedira. “Casillas signed off on the shipment. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d risk a charge like that. Not unless he was forced to.”

He had been. Lahm knows that. And, Gigi decides as he glances at Klose, who’s always been an open book, he wants Gigi to know he knows.

It’s a moment before he realizes the emotion twisting his gut is anger. Then he drains his wine and sets the glass down.

“All right,” he says. “You’ve had your little song and dance. Now what do you actually want?”

“I meant what I said. I want your help.” Lahm glances around at the conference room. “You’ve got a good thing going here, but I think we both know you can’t keep it up forever. Neither can we.”

“And you thought the best way to do it was to come aboard my ship and threaten me into lending you a hand?” Gigi leans forward--impossible to mistake the slight tenseness in Lahm’s posture, no matter how he tries to hide it--but it’s only to refill Lahm’s glass, a pointed, unsubtle gesture. “Mario said you were smart. I don’t want to have to tell him he was wrong.”

“It’s nothing as dramatic as that.” Lahm meets his eyes. “We’ve all heard things about pirates in the border systems. I wasn’t sure if you were just in it for the money, or if there was something else that made you strike at the heart of the Federation on a regular basis.”

“You have a funny way of negotiating,” says Gigi, and Lahm smiles that schoolboy smile again.

“Some of my crew are still a little bitter about the last time we met. Miro here said we could trust you despite all that, but I had to make sure we were on the same page.”

We aren’t, he doesn’t say. Lahm has all the trappings of a politician in the making, albeit one apparently making a detour through casual piracy for the benefit of his crew, and Gigi--

Gigi has carved a place for himself out here with his own goddamn hands, and sweated and wept and bled to keep it. And now the only way to keep it might be to leave it all behind.

God knows it isn’t fear. It’s been a long time since he’s had cause to feel that. But a man gets used to protecting what’s his: _his_ ship, _his_ mobile suits, _his_ ragtag assortment of ex-soldiers, too many of whom had followed him into the black out of a sense of starry-eyed hero worship than any understanding of the mess they were getting themselves into.

They know better now. They’re nothing if not fast learners. But it doesn’t change the fierce curling possessiveness he feels when he sees them lined up before him.

He’d die for them without a second thought. He doesn’t expect them to die for him.

For a moment he’s tempted to reject Lahm’s unspoken offer. Then he remembers what Iker had said to him, and he straightens in his chair.

Tit for tat, he thinks.

“Tell me about Thomas Müller,” he says, and hides a smile at the surprise that passes across all their faces.

 

\---

 

The crew is waiting for him when he returns to the bridge. There’s a tension in the room, just on the edge of sensation, if only he’d reach out and take it, and he knows without asking that the copilots have already brought them all up to speed.

“Well?” says Leo. “They selling us out to the Federation or not?”

His fists are held loose at his sides, but Gigi notices he’s standing next to the hangar bay controls, ready to launch at a minute’s notice.

“No,” says Gigi, “I’m pretty sure it isn’t a trap.”

They’ve been through more in the last three years than those kids in the _Adler_ could ever imagine, he thinks wryly. Stupid to think of it as joining up with them when it should be the other way around.

“But if it is,” he adds, “we can take them. Any day.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- Title is from "A Place" by Cloud Cult.  
> \- SPECIAL THANKS to redandgold and selenedaydreams for beta reading!


End file.
